


Anatomy Lesson

by IdMonster



Category: Annihilation (2018 Garland)
Genre: Body Horror, Dark Mirror/Clone Rapes Victim, F/F, Loss of Identity, Monster Aggressor Has No Understanding of Concept of Rape, Non-Human Genitalia, Rape For Science, Rape to Learn Human Anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 18:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdMonster/pseuds/IdMonster
Summary: Lena's double wants to learn human anatomy.





	Anatomy Lesson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [track_04](https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/gifts).



Lena slammed into the ground. The thing that looked like her—her clone?—lay atop her. Lena struggled, but it mirrored her movements to crush her back down. 

It was stronger than her. Or maybe Lena was stronger than she’d ever realized. Or it could tap the potential of the human body in a way no human could. Or it wasn’t human at all beneath the skin, but like water that took the shape and shade of the glass into which it was poured. 

“What do you want?” Lena asked. Her voice was hoarse. 

The clone—she’d call it a clone, that was a less unsettling concept than other possibilities—didn’t reply, or even blink. It—no, she, a clone of herself had to be female, be a woman—lay still atop her, hot and heavy. They were pushed together, chest to crotch to legs, like a child’s idea of sex. Like two Barbies shoved together: “Now kiss!” Her breasts pressed into Lena’s.

Lena stared up into her face. She didn’t blink. Had she ever blinked? Lena blinked, slowly, deliberately. The clone followed. When her eyelids lifted, a transparent film slid away from the eyeball: a nictitating membrane.

So. Not a clone. Not quite.

Or had that same membrane grown across Lena’s own eyes, at some point? Would she have noticed? Lena blinked again, but nothing felt strange. It felt natural, as if that was how she’d always done it. 

But then, it would. 

“I am Lena,” Lena said. She spoke slowly, like a teacher of a foreign tongue.

Her double spoke in Lena’s voice. “I am Lena.” She too spoke slowly, but perhaps not exactly the same way. Like a student, not a teacher. 

If her mind was anything like Lena’s, then she too was a scientist. She would want to learn. Imitation was the most basic start of learning. 

Encouraged, Lena sought for a place to begin. She was pinned, completely. Even her hands were pressed down, palm to palm. But they were a place where she could start. She spread her fingers, and the clone followed the movement. 

“Fingers,” said Lena. 

“Fingers, “ repeated the clone. Lena’s movements ceased, but the clone’s continued, moving her fingers back and forth over Lena’s, almost like a caress. 

Lena curled her fingers over the clone’s, echoing the movement. “Touch.”

“Touch,” said the clone. 

Lena smiled. Now they were getting somewhere! She wriggled beneath her double. “Body.”

“Body.” The clone’s fingers traced Lena’s, then her palms, then her arms. Her touch was exploratory, uneasily reminiscent of a lover’s. 

Lena wanted to pull back, but she held herself still. The last thing she wanted was to start the loop of imitated movements again. She needed to cooperate, to let her clone learn. 

The clone’s curious touch was halted by her own position. She sat up, kneeling atop Lena’s hips, and continued her explorations of Lena’s body. Lena named the parts as the clone touched them, and the clone echoed her words: “Neck. Face. Hair. Chest.”

The clone’s hand slipped beneath her shirt, reaching for her breasts. Lena caught her hand around the wrist. “No.”

“No,” said the clone, catching Lena’s hand and forcing it away. 

Her strength, which Lena hadn’t felt for a few minutes, was shocking. It felt violent. She held Lena’s hand out of the way while she felt her breast, squeezing it, lifting it as if she was estimating its weight, rubbing the nipple. Lena had been trying not to read anything sexual into the clone’s explorations, but she couldn’t help it now. Even if her double didn’t mean anything sexual by it—even if, as was likely, she didn’t know what sex was, let alone sexual assault—that didn’t stop Lena from perceiving it that way.

Her double seemed especially fascinated by the texture of the nipple, rolling it between her fingers, rubbing it until it hardened. Lena hated that response of her own body, even as she told herself it was automatic, no more sexual than if her nipples got hard on a cold day. And as for her double’s interest, well, she’d duplicated Lena, but a clothed Lena. Who knew what her breasts looked like under the shirt? Simple swellings, most likely. Nipple-less mounds. 

“Smooth muscle contractions,” Lena said. She tried to make her voice sound objective. An anatomy lesson. “Nipple. Aereola.”

Her double repeated the words. She let go of Lena’s hand and reached both of her own into Lena’s shirt. It was hard for her to move them around, under the tight two layers of cloth. But she didn’t frown or seem annoyed or awkward or anything human. Instead, she withdrew her hands. With one, she pulled Lena’s shirt away from her body. The other flexed, shimmered, melted. The fingers thinned, becoming green blades. Razor grass. They sliced away Lena’s shirt, then her bra. 

Lena froze. Even a brush against those blades would draw blood. The air was hot and humid against her exposed skin. 

The other Lena glanced down at herself, and her shirt melted into her body. The exposed skin was briefly that oil-slick metallic color, then faded, became matte, matched Lena’s own. The freckles on her breasts. The brown around her nipples. The few pale hairs. 

Her double’s grass-blades thickened, paled, became fingers again. She touched her own nipples, watching intently as they thickened and hardened. Muscle contractions, like Lena’s? Or some other mechanism entirely? Fluid pressure, maybe, like a Venus flytrap?

Hoping her double was caught up in examining her own new body, Lena tried to slide out from under her. Her clone didn’t stop her. Lena could hardly contain her relief as her feet came free.

Before she could scramble to her feet, a hand—a hand indistinguishable from her own, Lena saw with a jolt of horror—slammed her back down, flat on her back. And then those fingers, her fingers, complete with all the little calluses and scars, grew teeth like a shark’s, jagged-edged, sprouting not from the ends of the fingers but, grotesquely, from the pads. 

They sliced through her belt, her pants, her underwear, even her socks and shoes. And then Lena lay naked, staring up at her clone. Once again, that other set of clothing melted into her skin like candle wax, leaving the other Lena nude. Her crotch was smooth and naked like a mannequin’s. She drew her finger-tooth along her mound, and it split open bloodlessly. 

The gash blossomed with moist questing tentacles like a sea anemone’s. They spread out into a sticky pink flower, lapping and nibbling at Lena's skin. A scent rose up, hot and humid, fleshy and briny and perfumed. Or was it her own scent? Lena squirmed, feeling moisture between her thighs. Her clit felt swollen, pulsating.

Her double’s finger-teeth melted away and oh God, Lena knew what was coming next.

“No,” Lena muttered. “I don’t want this!”

She didn’t know if she was repeated. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her double’s face was flushed, which must mean her own face was flushed. 

Her double touched her. Lena jerked backward, but her double’s legs were wrapped around her waist, holding her tight in their coils. Her hands were trapped too. She could only sit and tremble as the Lena clone bent forward and pulled her labia apart, stretching them out and separating them, running her fingers along every fold. No one had ever been so fascinated by her genitalia, no lover, no one. Her clone was a very thorough scientist. Her tentacles melted together and became folds like Lena’s, identical in every detail. 

The other Lena dragged her finger through Lena, stroking her walls, feeling them contract at her touch. She stroked Lena’s clit, rubbing it, circling its stem and tracing the clitoral tissue around its base. A strangled moan escaped Lena’s lips, and she felt herself get wet. Wetter. A thick liquid spilled from her double’s folds, dripping into Lena’s. It smelled like swamp water, like Josie’s flowers. It smelled like the Shimmer. 

“Stop,” Lena said. “Please.”

“Please,” said the other Lena. 

Her finger unrolled like a butterfly’s proboscis, probing inside her. Tracing her inner anatomy. It didn’t hurt, or maybe it did but not in a bad way. It felt good, in a way that horrified Lena. She was afraid to move with that thing inside her, but her hips rocked of their own accord, thrusting against her double’s hand that was her own hand, the hand she’d masturbated with so many times before. It had been inside her before—what was strange about that?

Was she really acting only out of curiosity and the need to learn how humans were built? Was she only a scientist, as Lena was a scientist, wanting to learn and explore as Lena wanted to learn and explore? If she was Lena, then didn’t she want what Lena wanted? Could she want anything that Lena didn’t? Was this violation something that some part of Lena wanted? 

Her body shifted, altered, blossomed. She had learned so much, and wasn’t that the important thing? 

“I’m Lena,” she said. “I’m Lena!”

And they were.


End file.
